


I'm Not Ready For You To Give Up

by Aurrus



Series: We are in this together [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Mini Bang, Gen, M/M, a little bit of angst then a lot of fluff, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurrus/pseuds/Aurrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a punishment for his crimes, Loki was made mortal - a situation he doesn't like for a second to such an extent he'd rather die than live a mortal life without his powers. (Un)luckily for him, Tony Stark is way too stubborn to let anyone die on his watch and would even do anything in his powers to make Loki realize that not everything is hopeless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Ready For You To Give Up

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I had that prompt on tumblr the other day, with Loki feeling suicidal and Tony helping him through with it, meanwhile falling for him; it was meant as a really short fic but somehow got out of hand, err... so here it is. It's not even everything I've meant to write - there might be a sequel later, but for now it's a complete story. 
> 
> This is for the FrostIron Bang; while I tried to make it as perfect as I could, there still could be some typos and mistakes, for which I'm tremendously sorry! 
> 
> HUGE thanks to Veronicos, my amazing, wonderful friend and astonishing artist to this story - she has inspired me to no end and I don't know what I would do without her. You can see the illustration to this work here:  
> http://veronicos.tumblr.com/post/62378220684/how-do-you-do-it-stark-loki-asked-instead-of-a

The night was quiet – as quiet as the night in New York could be, anyway – and oddly peaceful; it seemed that all of the bad guys weren’t as keen on working on such hot days as they were usually. Probably they were hiding at some cool places as most of the other people did, and even muggers were taking a break, if almost empty streets were any indication.

All in all, it was tremendously boring.

Tony didn’t really mind peaceful times, nor was he strictly against the errands the Avengers started taking after they got together, but now he had nothing to do except for flying around the city, getting more bored and thus more irritated with every second. There were no crimes, no disorders; the villains were probably in some villainous bar drinking cold beer, and Tony desperately wished he could do the same. Of course, his suit was conditioned and the night’s hot air didn’t bother him that much, but still.

“Jarvis, what do you think, enough for tonight? Nothing’s gonna happen anyway.”

“As you wish, sir. I would monitor the surveillance for you.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Tony chuckled, starting looking for any kind of bar where he could spend the rest of the night. If anything went wrong, Jarvis would alert him; no need to fly the sky as a gloomy avenging red-and-gold ghost.

He didn’t even make it out of the quarter when he saw Loki.

“Sir,” Jarvis started, but Tony has already changed his route to get there.

Loki, a mad god who was supposed to be chained up in some alien dungeon after they have defeated him, a criminal who tried to take over the world, was standing at the edge of a roof and looked nothing like… Loki, in fact. His usual leather and metal armor was nowhere to be seen; instead he was clad in some baggy t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans, which was, well. Unexpected for a stylish super villain, to say the least.

Tony landed on a roof a few feet away from him, and Loki started, flinching and stumbling dangerously close to the edge, eyes wide and stricken.

“Whoa there, Reindeer Games,” Tony shoot his hands up – a peaceful gesture, had he not been in his suit, which only made it look more threatening than calming. Good. He grinned behind his visor. “That’s not how you say ‘hi’ to old friends.”

“Stark,” Loki drawled, flicking his eyes over the roof before conceding with a sigh. “What do you want?”

“The question is, what do _you_ want,” Tony sneered. “And what you are doing here. You can start with whichever you like more.”

Loki shrugged and turned to look at the city once more.

“It’s my punishment,” he croaked, not really answering any question. “And I want to end it.”

The next few seconds passed for Tony as if in slow-motion – Loki, taking a deep breath and a step forward, a step over the edge, and his own quick lunge forward and down – it was all happening too fast to think, but his instincts worked before him, and not a few seconds later they were on the ground, with Loki throwing curses at him and desperately pounding his suit, thrashing in his arms.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tony bellowed, yanking open his faceplate.

“Let go of me, Stark! Why do you even care!”

“I don’t care, but you fucking _jumped from the roof!_ What was I supposed to do?!”

“Let me!” Loki yelled, hitting his chest with a fist and crying in pain. He crouched in Tony’s grasp, grimacing and nursing his hand. “You were supposed to let me, Stark!”

“You…” Tony let his eyes wander between Loki’s pained face and hand and cursed. “You would have died.” Probably. Could a god die from the fall? He recuperated fairly soon after the smashing the Hulk gave him; but somehow right now the suggestion seemed rather propriate.

“A genius, really,” Loki snorted, not resisting anymore. Only then did Tony fully realize that none of his hits had any effect on the suit; the god, the very same god that had enough power in him to throw him out of the window, hurt his hand, but didn’t even scratch his suit, and that’s what made the whole dying matter show its face.

“You wanted to die? The hell?”

He was met with a sneering glare. Tony frowned; Loki was many things, but he has never struck Tony as a suicidal one. True, they’ve never really been close enough to take any notices about each other, but Loki led an army to this world and fought with it, fought for his goal and life, so why should he commit suicide now?

“It’s a trick, right? You’re playing with me,” Tony poked him in chest, and Loki gasped, once again, (as if) in pain.

“Yes, Stark, I wanted to die,” he rubbed at his chest with uninjured hand and winced. “Would you prefer to do it yourself? To kill me and look like a hero?”

“Listen, I’m not going to kill you,” Tony scowled, losing his patience. “Why did you do it? Except for the obvious reasons, you know, being a bad guy and having your conscience kick, because I won’t believe in such bullshit.”

Loki laughed bitterly and shook his head, but refused to answer. In fact, he kept completely silent after that, though he was still smiling manically, but nothing Tony did could make him speak. He slumped in Tony’s grasp, eyes glassy and face blank, and fell into something like a trance; so maybe it was a trick, but his hand, the injured one, seemed to swell and looked rather uncomfortable, and _he tried to kill himself, for god’s sake!_

At least the night wasn’t boring anymore.

“Come on,” he whispered some time later, ushering Loki to the workshop. It was secured and no-one, not even Bruce, had access to it until otherwise was stated; Tony wasn’t sure it was wise to bring a criminal who tried to raze the very same tower they were currently in to the ground not even a full year ago, but then again, since when did Tony Stark make wise decisions? “Let’s not get you seen, okay? Okay.”

The fact that Loki allowed Tony to manhandle him was disturbing, if nothing else – either he was planning something, or something was very, very wrong with him, and none of the options suited Tony. He hated uncertainty, and this way it was going to end, one way or another.

He pushed Loki to the chair, turning to block the door (protocol ‘I’m working, assholes’), and searched for an emergency bottle of alcohol he hid – there! He cheered himself and took a bottle of gin from behind a pile of blueprints. Not exactly hidden, but it could’ve been anywhere, so yeah.

“Drink it,” Tony grunted, thrusting a bottle into Loki’s hands. Loki lifted his eyes a little, but his gaze seemed to pass right through him; Tony shuddered. It was creepy. “Drink,” he repeated, and this time, Loki obeyed and took a sip.

Tony sighed and finally started getting his suit off.

Loki didn’t move once.

Huh.

“Would you talk now?” Tony wondered, sitting on the edge of table in front of Loki. No reaction; he sighed again and leaned forward, lifting the bottle’s neck and tilting it, pouring more liquor into Loki’s mouth. Loki blinked and looked at him, soft glare finally focused (Tony almost breathed out in relief) and gulped down, coughing a little.

Tony waited a few moments before placing the bottle aside and taking Loki’s swollen hand in his.

“It hurts,” Loki murmured, giving a soft whimper and trying to take his hand back.

“Of course it hurts, I think you broke it,” Tony frowned, allowing him to cradle uncomfortable looking limb to his chest. “I just… don’t get it. Hulk smashed you into the ground, used you as a rag doll, and you were up and about in half an hour; and now you hit me and this?”

Loki cast a quick glance at him and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I think it was already fractured,” he muttered, absently swaying in chair. It looked like alcohol took its hold; his words were becoming less legible, but at least he was speaking. Good.

“Fractured? How?”

“I… hit the wall,” Loki whispered sheepishly and pulled at the hem of his shirt, tensing a little. Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You hit the wall.”

“I hit the wall.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m aging,” Loki croaked, and when he turned to look at Tony fully, his face crumbled and broke in a grimace. He pressed his healthy hand to his quivering lips and swallowed a sound that was suspiciously close to a sob.

Was Tony surprised? No. He was fucking shocked.

Loki, in his tower – in his workshop! – falling apart; just… what the hell?

“Hey, hey, it’s… it’s okay,” he offered, hesitating a little before crouching down before Loki and placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? Alright. Don’t… don’t cry. Please.”

Naturally, if Loki wasn’t crying before, he started sobbing now.

He sobbed long and hard, head falling on Tony’s shoulder and fingers clutching at his undersuit tightly; Tony was left in uncomfortable position on the floor (though Loki was hardly more comfortable in the chair, bent in half, broken hand caught between his lap and chest), patting Loki’s back awkwardly and desperately wishing he knew how to deal with such situations.

It took Loki maybe half an hour to calm down. His sobs subsided to miserable hiccups, and he slid on the floor, pressing himself close to Tony’s chest. Tony let a reserved sigh and moved, leaning against the table and pulling Loki with him so the god could settle between his outstretched legs.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” he asked patiently. Loki laughed, rubbing his cheek against the now-wet fabric of Tony’s undersuit.

“ _Everything_ is wrong, Stark,” he rasped. “Everything, starting with my birth and finishing with the fact that you didn’t let me die in peace.”

“You could use a visit to a shrink, buddy,” Tony muttered, stroking his back. Loki was shaking; not just shuddering, but shaking, like he wasn’t finished with sobbing but did his best to swallow it down. Criminal or not, it was a scary sight to behold. “Okay, let’s try again. Say… how you got here in the first place?”

“You brought me here; have you forgotten already?” Loki sniffed, trying to force a laugh. It came out as a sob once again, and he moaned pitifully. “It’s… my punishment. I’m stripped of powers, Stark; I’m… a mortal. I thought I would… gain them back, eventually, just stay weaker for a time being, but I’m aging. I’m _mortal,_ Stark.”

“Hey, listen, I got you! Guess what – I’m mortal, too,” Tony exclaimed in high voice, mouth working before brain, trying to – cheer Loki up? Calm him down? Probably both, but either he was out of his luck today or Loki just didn’t work that way, but instead of calming down he only started crying anew.

“Listen –”

“I’m useless, Stark,” he cried, sniffing again. “I’m useless, and I’m going to die that way, don’t you understand? I don’t want to wait for it, I just… I want that last illusion of control over my life, if nothing else.”

“Stop it,” Tony snapped, shaking him a little. “Stop it, right now. I fucking can’t believe it; do you really think –”

“Yes.”

“Loki –”

“Stark, you don’t understand –”

“And I won’t! I don’t want to – Loki, it’s _never_ a way out. Okay, I get it, it must suck to lose everything at once, including your super-powers and all that, but at least you have your life. Why would you want to lose it, too?”

Loki laughed bitterly, more tears streaking down his cheeks. Tony tried to imagine the god that tried to enslave the humanity crying and failed; if it wasn’t a trick, then the extent to which Loki had been broken was terrifying.

“Because it’s not worth living,” Loki answered, and Tony gritted his teeth.

“Bullshit,” he pushed Loki away just enough to catch his chin between his index finger and thumb and lift his head up. “ _Every_ life is worth living, Loki.”

Loki sneered and yanked his head away, blinking a few times.

“I’m your enemy,” he grumbled. “I’m the one who defenestrated you, who tried to take over your world, and you’re sitting here and telling me that my life is worth living? If anything is a ‘bullshit’, as you say, then it’s your words. How can you –”

“Because I was there.”

And finally, finally Loki shut his mouth and looked at Tony. It was a disbelieving look, but at least he was listening. Tony shrugged and smiled mirthlessly.

“Yeah, believe it or not, but I was there, more than once and on many occasions much closer than you were now. So trust me when I tell you I _know_ what you mean; I know how it feels to feel worthless, useless, unwanted… unneeded,” with his every word Loki winced and hunched on himself a little more, but Tony didn’t pause and didn’t let him interrupt. “I know, okay? I was there. But I have changed. I think when… when there’re other people who want to kill you, you go into some… contradiction. You fight, you claw your way out of it, and when it all ends, you see it from the other side, you know. Revalue your life and its meaning. No matter what, life is beautiful; there are still plenty things to do, to see, to say, to –”

“Easy to say for someone like you –”

“No,” Tony said firmly. “It’s not.”

They both fell silent for some time; it was Tony, probably for the fact that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, who broke the silence again.

“You know, I would’ve never expected something like that from you,” he mused, leaning back.

“Of course you –”

“I mean, you’re _you_ , and one would expect you to cause a hell lot of problems should you decide you’ve had enough,” Tony offered a cheeky smile to him and shrugged. “Or at least make it a show. Hey, don’t get any ideas here, though.”

Loki chuckled darkly and shook his head, obviously amused by the comment.

“Oh, I definitely will get ideas,” he smiled weakly in return. “And before I attempt suicide next time, I shall gain a flawless reputation and then arrange everything as if it’s your fault.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony snickered, a tiniest bit relieved to hear him like that. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Loki seemed to deflate a little, as if the tension was slowly leaving him.

“I… appreciate everything you said and did, Stark,” the god suddenly muttered, lowering his gaze and turning sad and serious again. He played with the hem of his shirt with his uninjured hand and sighed. “You didn’t have to do it, you shouldn’t have done it, but -”

“Hey,” Tony swayed forward and put a finger under his chin, making Loki flinch in surprise and lift his head. “I know I didn’t have to.”

There was an inquiry in Loki’s searching eyes, a question too obvious, but Tony didn’t have an answer to it. Why?

Because it was so, so wrong; to watch the god trying to kill himself – to watch anyone do that, but somehow with Loki it was even weirder.

So maybe Tony didn’t care about him for one bit, that’s true. He was an enemy; one of the most dangerous at that, as he was unpredictable and strong as hell. Seemingly not strong enough, though. Still, it didn’t mean Tony wanted him dead. He was no sadist; okay, maybe a little, but nothing much, and it certainly didn’t include feasting on such unsavory subjects. It was not okay, not even for wanted criminals – hell, if a person was that unstable to attempt something like that, they needed help, not a death sentence.

It struck him, then, that Loki’s punishment technically was just that – a death sentence. His luck his years didn’t show on his now-mortal body; he looked like he was thirty-something right now, and maybe he had another forty or fifty years ahead, but what was it for an immortal being? Half of a century or even less, when he had probably been living for thousands.

“Look,” Tony said urgently, suddenly not having it in him to look Loki in the eyes. “I know, for you it sucks, but now that you’re a human you can--”

“—Be condemned for the rest of my shortened life,” Loki finished dully. He lifted his eyes and looked at Tony intently. “I don’t want to end my life as a prisoner, Stark,” he whispered. “I only wanted that last bit of control over my actions I had left.”

 

“You want control? Fine,” Tony took a deep breath and smiled brightly at him, taking him by the arm and lifting from the spot that he’s been occupying. “Then show ‘em. Show ‘em that you’re not some weakling and that you can fucking deal with it. Live one hell of a life, Loki, make yourself an outstanding human and prove that you don’t deserved this punishment.”

Loki blinked slowly, owlishly, face blank, like he couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of his words. Then he smiled – darkly and menacingly.

“I am not a weakling, Stark.”

“Oh, right; because as far as I can remember, it wasn’t you considering ending your life just because you’re now rid of your mojo and godly powers.”

For a second Tony had an impression that it might work; he was openly provoking Loki, trying to make him angry, trying to get him to argue – but the heated glare he got lasted only a few moments before Loki slumped back, leaning on him heavily.

“I have never been worthy,” he spat out bitterly. “And now that I lost everything I still had you suggest I try again in vain? What kind of a mockery is it? You’re far more cruel than they give you credit for, Anthony Stark.”

Tony groaned, but Loki didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Take me to the SHIELD,” he said quietly, reserved. His tired eyes now lost every last hint of mischief, and he lowered his head once again, not unlikely to an hour or so prior, when Tony couldn’t get a single word out of him. That was disturbing, to say the least. Still, he continued, voice so quiet Tony had to make an effort to hear him. “Take me to your director to serve a punishment they would see fit for me. I won’t die unpunished, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What? No!” Tony gaped at him, bewildered. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?! It’s not okay to – whatever. You know, I’m not having this argument with you. You wanna kill yourself? Fine, go ahead. I’m not your fucking shrink; and I’m seriously not paid enough for this shit.”

He let out a shaky breath, trying to cease his stress-out. Loki was watching him carefully, by all means looking like a spooked out animal, and Tony laughed breathlessly.

“No matter what you hear, right? You’re not going to change your mind over mine or anybody else’s advice.”

“I don’t understand,” Loki spoke slowly after a long pause. “I caused a great harm to this world. I tried to kill you and your friends. I killed. I brought an army here. I’m a monster, Stark; and now a mortal one, too. And still you’re trying to change my mind and make me believe I have something to live for. Why?”

And there’s that damned question again.

“Because I want you- _you_ to be punished,” Tony grunted, extremely uncomfortable with the whole subject. Man, he could use a drink right now… “Not your-broken-parody- _you_. That’s just… no.”

Tony struggled, trying to find a proper answer, the one he would very much like to have himself. Loki’s reasoning was flawless; and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the broken god in front of him, to wish him death or any punishment the SHIELD could come up with.

“Because you’re already punished enough,” he suddenly said, face clearing. Loki looked at him blankly. “What’s the point of beating you up all over again? It would be a torture, not a punishment.”

Because the only point he could see in the whole situation was to make Loki regret his actions and see his wrongs, and by everything Tony had witnessed, he already did it. Heck, he enlisted his crimes and sounded thoroughly sorrowful for them; it might’ve been a trick, of course, but somehow Tony doubted it.

He was foolish to believe Loki for even a fraction of second, and he could regret his outright stupid behavior later, but right now it hardly mattered. The emotionless look on Loki’s face made him uneasy and almost sick with the sheer wrongness of it; right now, he was ready to take his risks just to find out it was some sort of a murderous plan to kill him if it meant the life would return to the now-dim eyes.

It probably had to tell something about his life that he’d really feel more comfortable in the same room with a blood-thirsty psychopathic god after him than faced with a being – what was he now? A human? A mortal god? – that lost its will for life, but at that moment it really was the farthest thing that concerned him.

“Come on,” he finally sighed, when Loki didn’t answer, and gently tugged at his sleeve. “We have to do something with your hand.”

Loki’s eyes darted to his face as he reluctantly followed Tony to the door, swaying slightly when the alcohol slowly took its toll on him.

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I promise we won’t have to amputee it,” Tony joked, and the lack of reaction – not a chuckle, not a hint of worry or fear – was far more disturbing than he could’ve though.

What was not disturbing in this, he wondered.

“Don’t zone out on me here,” he warned once they were in the garage and Loki still had to say a single word. “Hey, still with me?”

Loki stiffly nodded, eyes firmly on the ground. Tony sighed, but stopped pushing, instead silently leading the way to one of his cars and helping Loki on the passenger’s seat.

“Not so long ago it would’ve already healed,” Loki quietly muttered when he got in and showed him how to fasten the belt, looking at his limp and swollen hand. “Though not so long ago it probably wouldn’t have been injured at all.”

Tony snorted, starting the car.

“Well, that was then,” he said dismissively. “And since now it’s probably not gonna happen, well, forgive me, but I’d rather take you to the hospital.”

Maybe it was a bit cruel to remind Loki of his current… condition in such a way, but Tony was tired, and besides, coddling didn’t even work; so be it, if Loki didn’t want to talk, fine. It was his problem, not Tony’s.

Loki sulked for the rest of the trip, pointedly turning away from Tony to look from the car window, and despite trying to convince himself that he didn’t care, Tony actually felt some relief – at least sulking was something, and it was better than sickening indifference, if nothing else.

The visit to a hospital itself wasn’t very eventful – even if the SHIELD didn’t keep the whole alien invasion half a year ago thing a secret, Loki was almost unrecognizable as he was now, so no one there did as much as frown at him, drawing to any conclusions. For everyone else who wasn’t an Avenger or a person somehow indulged with SHIELD Loki was just a regular guy, which, ironically, was probably true at the moment. Thus the two broken fingers and a strained wrist were easily explained by alcohol – it was a waste of opportunity since Loki reeked of gin anyway – and Loki’s hand was placed in plaster, with Loki watching the process with mild curiosity all the time, as if he’d never seen it before – and, well, he probably hadn’t.

 

After that they returned to Tony’s car once again, and Loki actually looked a little bit better – he was still pretty much down lifted, but more… resigned?

 

The painkillers were making _miracles_ with people.

 

“So, uh,” Tony casually opened the door for Loki again, and the god – the former god? Whatever – curtly nodded and obediently sat down, waiting for Tony to join him. “Where do you live? I mean – you have somewhere to stay, right?”

 

Another nod, green eyes firmly lodged on his cast. The intense of his glare made Tony itch with the need to find a sharpie somewhere and draw a face on the white plaster.

 

“Well, you’d better tell me where to drop you, then, unless you decided to stay with me, which is not completely impossible, but, you know. I’d need more alcohol for that kind of thing.”

 

“What kind of thing?” Loki asked absently, finally looking at him. Tony gave him a suggestive smirk and wiggled his eyebrows, but Loki only frowned. “I’m way too exhausted for your riddles, Stark. You can drop me wherever is convenient to you, I’d find my way from there.”

 

“No would do,” he finally got in the car as well and slowly started it, pulling into the roadway. “Relax, Reindeer Games, I promise I won’t break into your house with a bunch of SHIELD agents following to capture you. What a waste of my time it would be, huh?”

 

They fell silent for a few moments before Loki reluctantly gave his address. By no means anything fancy or godlike; it was one of the most silent areas in New York, a tall, gloomy old building and probably one of those small flats with barely there space to move.

 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned, leaning to the opened door when Loki slowly pulled out of the car and breathed in the hot air. “I’d be really disappointed if you do.”

 

“As if I care,” a weak smirk was better than no reaction at all, so Tony smirked back. When Loki started to turn away, he quickly searched for a paper and a pen in the car’s glove box and called him not to go yet. “Here,” he offered him his number, scribbled in a hurry on some booklet or delivery handout. “Just call me if, you know. If you need someone to talk to. It might take me some time to answer; don’t hang up – and the wait can make you feel you’d rather kill me than yourself, so.”

 

He winked as Loki took the number and frowned, looking down on it, trying to make out the figures in the dim glimmering light of a nearby street lamp.

 

“Why do you do this?”

 

“Oh, I’m just such a good guy; I can’t help but help those who suffer,” Tony huffed, stretching out to close the door and wave a hand at Loki.

 

He didn’t wait for the question to be repeated more insistently and drove away, leaving a messed up and slightly drunk Loki standing on the sidewalk.

 

He had _no_ idea why did he do what he did. Except that he really, really didn’t like it when people tried to die on him, even if he was the last person to be concerned.

 

Everybody had a right to have their little whims and triggers. So what if his was people dying when they didn’t _have_ to?

 

Even if it was Loki.

 

~*~*~

 

Almost a week had passed since the incident on the roof when his mobile rang for the first time.

 

“You have reached the life decoy of Tony Stark,” he muttered, pressing the device to his ear with one shoulder, too busy with tinkering on a new scheme to answer properly and too bored with monotonous work to let Jarvis reply for him. “Please, leave your message I would probably never get and don’t expect me to call back.”

 

“How do you do it, Stark?”

 

Tony grinned, pausing for a second, recognizing the absent voice.

 

“Hey Lokes,” he put the soldering iron aside and wiped his hands on the dirty cloth, taking a hold of his phone and rolling away from the table a little. “What’s up? And by ‘it’ you mean what? Just to clarify before I give you some details you really don’t want to know.”

 

“How do you deal with the knowledge that every passing day you’re closer to your end?” Obviously, Loki opted to ignore him and just went on with the line that interested him the most. _Was he eating something_?

“Uh, you know, you just kinda… get used to it?” Tony shrugged, not really getting the question.

“How?”

So Loki decided to be insistent. Tony couldn’t help but smile a little; a god trying to undertand the value of life. What else could be so charming?

“Listen, I’m not the best person to answer such philosophical questions as ‘what is the meaning of life’, because the best I can come up with would probably be something like 42,” he chuckled, standing up to stretch and pop his joints. “I can, however, distract you, if you’d like.”

There was a short pause and a distinct sound of chewing – _no, seriously, was Loki eating?_ The picture was too odd not to make him wonder – before Loki asked, even more puzzled than before.

“Why forty two?”

Oh, Tony should’ve expected something like this – he also might have, or might have not, hoped that Loki would, indeed, ask that question, but still it made him laugh, folding in two.

“What’s so funny, Stark?” Ah, now he sounded almost angry; also curious, which made him sound almost endearing.

“Have you, by any chance, read our books?” Tony asked, still chuckling a little.

The silence that fell was far from comfortable, and the joke suddenly didn’t seem so funny anymore. Just as he was about to change the obviously awkward subject, Loki replied – almost reluctantly so.

“Frankly, I have.”

And just like that, the air changed from somewhat comfy and flippant to serious and heavy. The way Loki said it, like he was admitting doing something shameful, was all too telling for Tony's liking. He sounded… Defensive; Tony hated it – he hated dealing with feelings, but it was a little bit too late to back off; he did, after all, offer Loki his help or something like that.

And now that Loki was, obviously, desperate enough to call him, he could at least try to be nice. It was all too easy to imagine Loki flipping through pages of different encyclopedias and other books that could've been useful for him in this new life of his, and probably the question reminded him of the fact that he had to do it now – a surrender in his own eyes, if his voice was anything to go by.

“Good for you,” Tony finally cheered, making a notice to himself and pressing the phone to his ear with shoulder, reaching for the keyboard. “So tell me. What are you wearing?”

The confused choke was so worth it.

It took Jarvis three minutes to locate Loki's exact address and make an order of science fiction worth of a small library to his flat. By the time he was done Loki has already hung up without as much as goodbye, though he did master an annoyed huff, but at least that huff was not as tense as the silence before.

~*~*~

The next time Loki called him, Tony sprang from his place at the table on the boarding meeting, muttering something about a very important call.

“You're my savior,” he chuckled as soon as he was out.

“Am I, now?” Loki asked in turn, vaguely amused.

“Yeah. Kind of. Jarvis wouldn't call me to save me from these meetings anymore, so yeah.” He had no idea how Pepper managed to threaten his AI, but that way of cheating himself out of company business hasn't worked for quite some time now.

“Glad to hear it,” the voice has lost even those small traces of amusement, and Tony frowned, becoming serious as well. It didn't hurt that Pepper chose that moment to poke her head from the door, puzzlement clear on her face; she probably has expected Tony to be gone for good now, but for once, he really was talking. He nodded to her and turned his attention to Loki.

“What happened?”

Maybe he was imagining things, but it seemed as if Loki gave out almost relived sigh.

“Your stupid world happened,” he muttered tiredly, obviously trying to bring humor to his words but missing by mile. “I…What do you do when there's no hope?”

“There's always hope,” Tony disagreed, sighing inwardly. But of course, someone who was supposed to have lived for hundreds of years would have hard time dealing with their newfound mortality.

To think about it, he has lost everything – no magic, no super strength, no longevity, no nothing. It was certainly not the kind of things one can stuff into someone's throat and expect the said someone to swallow it down and deal with it.

So he was hardly in any position to get annoyed. Not that now he was pitying Loki, but at least he felt a new wave of sympathy towards the guy.

“You know,” he tried, when Loki made no sign of speaking, “there's some people who have to find something to live for every day. I think.”

“Only some?” Loki laghed mirthlessly, and Tony winced. Damn, he was _so_ not the one who should’ve been doing it! He was no fucking therapist, he was Tony fucking Stark, and he was the last person one should be choosing to trust their problems to, and yet here he was, talking no one else as the former god of mischief through another existential crisis.

Obviously, Loki sensed that he, for once, was at loss of words, and continued.

“There’s nothing here to live for,” he insisted, almost desperately. “You’re so petty and tiny, you live to destroy and die before you can face the consequences, but not before what was left by those who lived before you tries to kill and in some cases succeeds. What you lack in time, you double in efforts, you…”

“Hold on there,” Tony interrupted, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and trying to process Loki’s words. They should’ve sounded so much more serious than they did for him; either he or Loki didn’t get something vital there. Loki paused, and Tony smiled despite himself, almost hearing him pout. Or maybe he was just imagining again; maybe Loki was sitting there with his lips so painfully thinned they looked almost white, and the matching knuckles gripping tight on some book… “Just – just listen to yourself. How’s that we’re doubling our efforts is a bad thing?”

He caught a glimpse of Pepper’s head disappearing in doors again, and thought amusedly that the last line must’ve sounded like some sort of a business talk. Oh, he was so going to be interrogated later!

Loki sighed on the other end, either annoyed by the lack of understanding or just tired.

“And how’s that a good thing?” he retorted, and Tony smiled again, leaning to the wall beside a coffee machine.

“There’re so many great things here,” he shrugged. “Give it a try. Go in for a walk, treat yourself with sweets or junk food or what’s it that you like… Do sightseeing. Buy a dog. Find a TV-show and become a proud fan. Threaten people over the internet. Whatever. Stop looking only for bad things, and start with throwing away the book that sent you into this mood.”

Tense silence broke with Loki’s chuckle – weak, but no less genuine.

“You do realize that it’s disgusting?” he wondered, and it was Tony’s turn to laugh. “You’re unbelievable. Creating so much substitutes just to feel… Alive?”

“I’d take that as a compliment,” Tony mused, politely ignoring something akin to surprised realization in Loki’s voice on the last words. “Do it, though. Try looking for new experiences, and maybe our world would surprise you. In a nice way, too,” he added before Loki got the chance to mock this one as well.

“We’ll see,” Loki wandered away, and just as Tony was ready to bid his goodbye added, a hint of curiosity clear as day: “How did you know about the book?”

So he didn’t figure who’d sent them, then; probably thought there to be some sort of mistake or something. Tony smiled widely.

“Enjoy your day, Loki.”

~*~*~

It took about half an hour (not  that long, considering the distracting meeting, which he, to the surprise of all other participants, decided to sit through to an end) to realize what was nagging him after talking to Loki – a fact that made him smile brightly and snap his fingers, earning a few puzzled and a few annoyed looks – and about a week (not that long at all, considering the new design for his suit and a few other modifications in his workshop) to set his plan into action.

“Stark?” Loki gasped, eyes going comically wide at the sight of Tony leaning into his doorframe. Tony smirked and showed him a disk.

“Please, tell me you have a TV,” he joked, brushing past the frozen god into his flat. Loki muttered something about not having invited him, but Tony didn’t bother to listen. He walked inside, looking at his surroundings.

All in all, the flat looked… simple. It had that look the apartments usually have when someone has just moved in – despite Loki living there for no less than a month, for sure. Still, it didn’t give an impression of a lived-in; or maybe it did, but just barely – a few touches here and there, almost unnoticeable: the keys being thrown carelessly on the dresser, an opened, but untouched, pack of cigarettes (Tony raised an inquiring eyebrow), and a faint smell of heated water from the kitchen. He didn’t go there, instead opting for the living room, and – success, there was a TV, not a fancy one, but it’ll do.

“Now that you’ve so politely invited yourself inside,” Loki drawled from the door, annoyed, arms crossed over his chest. “I see no point in asking how I can help you, as you’re surely capable of that simple task yourself.”

“No need to be so snarky,” Tony huffed, plopping down on the couch. “If you really want me out, just tell me to leave.”

“And you will listen?” Loki quirked an eyebrow, and Tony looked at him seriously.

He didn’t really want to invade Loki’s privacy, but at the same time he wasn’t going to fuss over him – true, Loki was fragile in his eyes still, and his catered hand didn’t improve the image, but he knew from his own experience how annoying constant worrying could be.

Loki just looked at him for a long moment before sighing and running his uninjured hand through his hair.

“You won’t,” he said, and Tony quirked his lips in amusement when Loki carefully sat down. “Would you at least be so kind to enlighten me about the reasons behind your visit?”

“So formal,” Tony snickered, playing with the disk in his hands. He tilted his head to the side. “Must I answer in the same way, or would my despicable babble satisfy your curiosity despite its form?”

“Shut up,” Loki glared at him. «Just tell me what you want, and god help you if you’d as much as think of joking about not being able to speak when you’re supposed to shut up.”

Tony rolled his eyes and turned the box so Loki could see the cover.

“Last time,” he stood up and went to the TV once Loki had the chance to frown over the title and pictures, “you said something that reminded me of this one. Now, don’t take it personally,” he warned, chuckling, “but your situation is quite similar.”

Loki eyed him dubiously.

“Similar to what?”

“Just see,” Tony settled back comfortably, stretching and grinning a little. “You have watched movies already, have you?” he added with a hint of curiosity when Loki’s eyes widened a little with the opening titles.

“Of course I have,” Loki barked, closing instantly and leveling him with a glare. The way his look shifted back to the screen, though, gave an impression that his experience with television was limited to a few news airs and maybe, though doubtful, a couple of music videos.

The layer of dust on the TV screen which Tony brushed off with his sleeve and the remote that was used maybe once were only giving his suspicions more ground.

“What is that fifth element, Stark?” he asked a few minutes into the film, the need to seem uninterested and annoyed forgotten. “I know a lot, but not even I have heard of it in any of the nine realms.”

With that, he visibly saddened, though he did his best not to show it. Tony did his best to make a small bump to his shoulder seem accidental in turn, and when he just as accidentally stayed that way, their shoulders touching, Loki relaxed a little.

“It’s an action movie,” he mused. «Don’t look too much into it. New York doesn’t look as it’s shown either, as you’ll see.”

“Why film it, then?” Loki frowned. Tony hushed at him, waving his hand.

“Just watch the film. It’s an entertainment.”

“In Asgard we used to have other forms of…”

He pinched Loki’s arm – not painfully, but with enough strength to make him yell from surprise and bat Tony’s hand off, glaring and all but forgetting about his slip. Tony smirked. Good.

“Just watch it,” he repeated, and this time, though not without a huff of annoyance, Loki actually complied.

It was fun to watch him watching the movie – he reacted beautifully, even though he was clearly holding гг himself back; still, the expressions on his face were changing rapidly, and a few times he even granted Tony with small noises, snorting or gasping accordingly.

Near the end his expression took a thoughtful tint. For a second, watching him frown and nibble on his thumb, Tony almost worried he fucked it up and that it wasn’t such a good idea to introduce Loki to the film as he’d originally thought; who knows, Loki could’ve seen it the way that his lonely mortal life was so much worse than Fifth Element’s fate… but then the movie ended with credits rolling down the screen, and Loki hummed before turning sharply to face Tony and poking his index finger at him.

“Don’t you dare,” he snapped, “call me Liloo.”

Tony grinned so broadly it almost hurt.

(And of course he did, risking being hit with the door slamming shut in his face when he was leaving.)

~*~*~

While Tony thought his advice fell on deaf ears, they actually didn’t; Loki didn’t follow the one to buy a pet, but he did went out for a walk, as it appeared.

To do so, he’d chosen the worst possible day. Later, when Tony asked how the hell did it seem reasonable to him to go out when the rain was so heavy you couldn’t see straight behind the arm’s length, and he wouldn’t answer, choosing instead to sulk miserably, Tony would wonder if he’d been so unlucky to be caught by the weather once he’d already been outside, or if he really wanted to pine away and did it on purpose.

“If any person here present has knowledge why me and my delicious food straight from some shady restaurant should not be joined in carnal pleasure, let them speak now or forever hold their peace,” Tony said instead of greeting when his phone rang with a now-familiar number on the screen. He was met with silence – well, mostly, if one could call hoarse labored breathing silent. He gulped down a helping of noodles he currently had in his mouth – he was actually taking a break from his project, or rather, _it_ was taking a break from _him,_ as there were some heavy calculations needed to be done without his participation – and cautiously called out, “Loki?”

There was a sniff and a groan on the other end, and Tony put the carton box aside, slightly frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I don’t know,” the answer followed almost immediately, complete with another sniff and an angry, if tired, groan. “But as you were so kind,” somehow he managed to make it sound exactly like ‘stupid’ and reek with sarcasm, “to put up with my miseries so far, so I decided to take a further use of it.”

“Okay,” Tony slowly leaned back in his chair, mind working furiously. “So what is it?”

Was Loki crying? Sure, he has been quite miserable before, some times more than the others, but Tony has never heard him like this, not even that fateful night they… reacquainted.

“I don’t know,” Loki repeated after a pause. “But I feel…” he didn’t finish – or maybe he just  took another pause to sneeze. Anyway, it gave Tony a fairly good idea of what could’ve been happening – he almost breathed out his relief; he still might’ve been wrong, but considering all the facts, that was highly unlikely.

“All hot and bothered?” he chuckled cockily, and, naturally, Loki hung up with an indigant sound.

Tony shook his head, smiling, and reached for his noodles again, stuffing his mouth full while simultaneously dialing another number.

“What would you suggest for an ill person?” he inquired as soon as he heard the ‘hello’ on the other end.

“What? Why? Are you ill? Tony, I told you…” Pepper was half-worried, half-irritated, though the latter was clearly giving way to the former, Tony could tell. He snickered.

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine, relax. Just wondering.”

There was a short pause, and then a suspicious question, “Why do I not believe you?”

“Such a faith,” he sighed with mock offence, fishing for the tasty toppings. “Mean. Anyway, it’s not me, one of my friends seems to have caught cold and I don’t want to risk killing him dealing with it on my own.”

“Tony, the ‘I have a friend who’ won’t work on me, I know all of them.” That made Tony chuckle – well, that was mostly true, after all. “And most of them are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.” Or at least reasonable enough not to ask _you_ for help, was left unsaid. He grinned. “What are you not telling me, Tony?”

“Hey, what, can’t I make new friends without your permission and blessing first?” An empty box flew to the trash can, but missed to the amusement of Dummy, who chirped and rolled to take care of that. Tony might’ve done it on purpose – his robots didn’t have much to do as of lately and were pretty enthusiastic even to the most basic tasks – but one could never tell. He rolled to his table, looking for the closest apothecary on the Internet.

“No,” Pepper stated firmly, and he smirked at her stern voice. “Since when have you started making new friends on your own?”

Since they have literally fallen into my arms from the rooftops, he mused silently, and shrugged, huffing an inarticulate sound in answer.

“Okay, maybe you would at least enlighten me as to why you’ve decided to play a nurse for them?” Pepper sighed, obviously, admitting her defeat. Of course she wouldn’t press matters for too long – they both knew that she’d find out everything he wasn’t telling her sooner or later, so there was no point in pressuring him now.

He didn’t have an answer for her, though. Because Loki probably had no idea how to take care of himself? Or because he probably was too ill even to walk to the closest apothecary?

The tones in his phone saved him from the need to think of something, and he chirped brightly, “Sorry, have another call, gotta answer,” before disconnecting to the loud wave of indigation on the other end. “Yes,” he answered as soon as the other call was received.

“I do feel hot,” Loki admitted reluctantly, not bothering to stay silent this time. “How do you do it, Stark?”

“Do what?” Tony absently reduced the open windows on his computer and headed to the exit. “You want me to indulge with you in another philosophic…”

“No,” Loki groaned, even more miserable than before. “That’s the last thing I want right now, Stark.”

“And what is the first thing, then?” Tony prompted him, when it came obvious that Loki woudn’t continue.

“To die,” he spat angry, and then, “Oh,” he sounded almost embarrassed and a little bit confused. “Not… like that, I didn’t… mean it.”

His tone, like he was actually surprised by that revelation, was almost heartbreaking. Tony chuckled quietly.

“I know, catching a cold sucks pretty much. What have you done?”

“What do you mean?” Obviously, irritated by his own little slip, Loki now sounded more angry than anything else.

“I mean,” Tony paused. What exactly did he mean? What did Loki do to catch it, or what did he do to get rid of it? “Nah, doesn’t matter. Just sit there and…” what do people usually do when they are ill? “Make yourself something to drink. Yeah. If you can do it.”

“Too busy to talk?” Loki snapped, and suddenly, behind the poison he put into his words, Tony heard something akin to frustration. He smiled a little, but made sure not to let it slip into his voice when he answered.

“Kinda,” he chuckled, already on his way to the doors. Before he could say anything else, Loki hung up again, and this time he didn’t bother calling back.

Tony decided that it was alright – they would see each other pretty soon, after all. As expected, he got a resigned text from Pepper with all the necessary directions not even five minutes later; he grinned to himself, already starting a car, and took off.

He wasn’t playing a nurse. He was just being  a responsible adult, right? After all, he offered his help, and he wasn’t about to take his words back.

…To say Loki looked like shit would have been an understatement of the year. Tony held the button of his bell pressed for about five minutes before there was any action on the other side of door, and then, with barely audible cursing and shuffling steps, Loki finally opened it, putting all of his weight on the knob.

“Who the hell…” He stopped as soon as he realized it was Tony – the fact that it didn't happen immediately was disturbing, and Tony pushed into the flat without waiting for invitation first, dragging Loki with him. His wrists were on fire, as was his forehead when he unceremoniously put a hand on it – Loki didn't even have it in him to slap him away. He slumped onto the couch once they were in the living room and groaned piteously.

“What are you doing here?” he rasped.

“Tending to your ill ass,” Tony brightly announced, dropping the bag with medicine on the end table – another piece of furniture that had looked like it had never been used before when he had been here last time, but now had a couple of stains. “How're you feeling?”

The glare Loki gave him was speaking volumes. Tony rolled his eyes; okay, so maybe it _was_ a pointless question, but it didn't mean Loki had to be nasty.

Or maybe it did; he was, after all, ill, probably for the very first time in his up until recently immortal life, and surely that meant something. For once, he could allow himself to be whimsical without any excuses – not that he needed them any other day, but, surprisingly, despite being a former super-villain he didn’t strike Tony as a very crotchety type.

“Okay, so,” he suddenly felt awkward – even though he had literally seen Loki on edge, he hadn’t seen him so… vulnerable again ever since; sure thing, Loki called him on several occasions, but he has never been so indifferent to anything.

In fact, he looked like he was going to pass out any moment now; his glassy eyes and bright feverish flush made Tony worried and nervous, and he hesitantly tugged at the sleeve of Loki’s shirt.

“I think it’s better for you to lie down, pal,” he muttered, trying not to freak out when Loki obediently followed his lead, silently agreeing to be pulled from the couch and into the supposed bedroom. No complaints, no objections, no jokes, no nothing – and man, did it make the things seem thousand times worse.

He collapsed on the bed as soon as it was within his reach, immediately trying to curl into a tight ball – it was a slow process, as if he was in pain, and each movement only made it worse – which it probably did; his eyes slid close, and he whimpered, almost inaudible, but so miserable it made something inside Tony twist uncomfortably.

“Cold,” Loki murmured, shivering slightly. Tony hopelessly looked around in search of anything he could cover Loki with, but the only suitable item seemed to be the blanket he was currently lying on. He took a step closer to the god and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You have to roll over,” he whispered as soothingly as he could manage. Loki blinked once, turning a little to look at him with one eye, looking a bit puzzled, as if he was surprised to see him here. “Come on, we need to warm you up.”

If only Loki was in his right mind now; oh, the ambiguous talk they could’ve shared!.. But judging by his looks as of now, Loki would hardly remember any of this in the morning, or whenever he would wake up. He did roll over, allowing Tony to tuck him in the warm blanket, and let out a relieved sigh.

Tony gently backed off, closing the door behind himself as quietly as he could. He considered his options – the chances were, Loki wouldn’t get up for at least a few hours, and he had nothing to entertain himself with here; on the other hand, he didn’t feel like leaving Loki alone either – he didn’t just drop by to hand him the pills he probably had no idea how to use and get him to find some sleep; Tony was… actually worried.

He made his way to the couch and dropped onto it gracelessly, biting his lips and frowning. So, there was that question, the one Loki had asked him the very first day they met again – why? Why did it matter to him if the former god and former villain was alive or not, or better yet, if he was feeling good or needed for someone to take care of him and perfectly willing to be that one for him?

He had no idea.

Resting his head on the back of the couch, Tony sighed. He didn’t want to think about it, not right now, not when he was already here, ready to  tend to Loki’s needs even if he himself hardly managed to do any house chores without help. It wasn’t really his fault – he was just much more interested in other things, that’s all.

The procrastination worked for about fifteen minutes – and really, that was _a lot_ for him. Then he promptly stood up and started pacing around the room, taking a better look at some things he missed on his previous visit.

The flat had still remained the same Tony remembered it – almost unnaturally unlived, with barely noticeable hints of an actual human being being present there more often than not; a bulky phone that made him smile imagining Loki first picking it out in the shop, driving some poor guy trying to help him mad, and then talking to Tony on the very same couch, waiting for him to pick up , reading some magazine – there were some on the coffee table – or a book, or maybe playing with the remote…

A small piece of paper stiking out from behind one of the pillows caught his attention, and he carefully took it out and looked through it before grinning like an idiot.

It was an old and weary-looking booklet of a Chinese restaurant he liked with his number scribbled down on it, but it also contained a few marks on the menue now – couple of items underlined with pencil, a few crossed out. Tony tried to imagine the look on his face when he tasted something that had clearly disgusted him and chuckled, stuffing the rumpled thing back.

He took a tour around his flat after that – it was a nice one, if by no means big, and the only thing that was off was the impression in general – how little personal thing Loki had, how empty and formal it looked, like he was only spending time here on a business trip and had nothing to do with this flat.

Loki’s obvious attempts at changing that were even worse, though. They all, from a ridiculous fluffy green towel in the bathroom and to the little collection of three plastic toys from some sweet treat on the windowstill in the kitchen, reeked with desperate realization that he had no other choice but to make himself at home here; that there would be no return to Asgard or whenever he came from or wanted to come to, that he had to live just as any other mortal here.

It sucked. Tony put the toy Darth Vader (he wondered if Loki had heard about Star Wars) back on the window and looked out at the street. The house Loki lived in was situated in one of the most peaceful and quite areas in New York, or at least so it seemed; Tony saw a bright shop sign not far away and decided he’d better take himself for a walk and make a use of himself while Loki was sleeping.

When he returned two hours later, a huge bag in one hand and an original trilogy of Star Wars in another, having borrowed Loki’s keys, Loki was no longer asleep, but was in no mood to leave the bed. He met Tony with a challenging glare when the latter danced into his room.

“I see you feel better,” Tony smiled brightly when Loki growled something under his breath and handed him the bag, huge but surprisingly light. Loki took it obediently, way too surprised to object. “I haven’t seen anything similar here, and everyone should have a spare blanket or plaid, you know, when they’re cold or just lonely and…”

He didn’t have the chance to finish his joke – Loki pulled out a large, bulky orange plaid from the bag and looked at it with such a murderous glare Tony thought he wanted to burn it.

“What,” Loki carefully tugged at the fringe, “Is this?”

“A plaid,” Tony explained, smiling at him. “You know, you need something like this here.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“You do,” he insisted, “just – look, it’s really kinda freaky how impersonal this place is. Put it over the couch, it would make your room seem more…”

“Stupid,” Loki prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“You _are_ better, then. How about a dinner and a movie night, then?”

“How about no?” Loki seemed to hesitate – while his voice, if husky either with sleep or with his cold, was stern, his posture and eyes were uncertain, as if he wanted Tony to stay.

Even if he didn’t, Tony wasn’t going anywhere.

“How about shut up, wrap yourself in your plaid and take your skinny ass to the living room,” he groaned with mock annoyance, already leaving to put the disk into the player.

“You have an unhealthy obsession with my derriere, Stark,” Loki teased, or maybe mocked, following him slowly. “Do I have to worry about your true intentions?”

“I will tell you if you do,” Tony promised. Loki made a show of making himself comfortable on the couch, looking like a ruffled bird in its nest among the orange folds of his plaid, and once he was done, he didn’t make a sound aside from heavy breathing. Either he was too tired or didn’t like the film (which actually disappointed Tony somehow), but he didn’t react as animatedly as the first time; he even paid much more interest to the pizza Tony had delivered to them and to the medicinе (though the latter only got close scrutiny instead of mild amusement) Tony gave him after their improvised dinner, and then promptly fell asleep on Tony’s shoulder not even fifteen minutes into the second film. How the hell did it happen Tony had no idea; still, he decided against waking him up, turned off theTV and made himself more comfortable with a light and not in the least unpleasant weight against his chest.

~*~*~

The morning after Loki refused to feel ashamed or even shy and instead opted to pretend that nothing had happened – and Tony was really good with it, too, as nothing had happened, indeed. It wasn’t like one of them molested the other; they fell asleep together on Loki’s couch and he took care of the god and was worried about him enough to stay the night, but it didn’t actually mean anything.

No. Not a single thing.

The speed he answered the incoming call two weeks later was almost disturbing, especially considering it was not even late anymore, rather, way too early for any phone calls, but he still hasn’t slept, and Loki was very much awake as well, if his name on the screen was any indication, so no problem there.

“How do you do it, Stark?” Loki asked instead of a greeting, and Tony found himself grinning. He sat down on one of his tables and chuckled – Loki didn’t sound particularly miserable or agitated, so he could allow himself not to address the matter immediately and just as seriously.

“How do I do what now? Live? Or…”

“No, how do you – oh. Doesn’t matter, I think I figured out myself,” Loki muttered, and there was a distinct sound of a TV in the background, which was then turned off, leaving them both in silence for a few moments. “So…”

“So,” Tony helpfully repeated, and Loki sighed – he’d say nervously, but why would Loki be nervous if he didn’t have another existential crisis?

“How are you doing?”

Well, that was certainly unexpected.

Not… unpleasant, though.

“Fine,” he slowly said, his lips twitching a little in a warm smile. “And you?”

 “I… guess me too,” this time Loki sounded more awkward than nervous and a little bit angry at himself. But before he had a chance to add anything else, probably to hung up, Tony interrupted him, closing his eyes and humming slightly – it was a tiresome day and he could use some distraction.

“So tell me,” he repeated almost word-to-word what he’d said the first time Loki called him. “What are you wearing?”

[ ](http://veronicos.tumblr.com/post/62378220684/how-do-you-do-it-stark-loki-asked-instead-of-a)

There was an answering snicker on the other end – his smile grew wider – and then, unexpectedly, an answer:

“You won’t believe me,” Loki drawled playfully, “but I’m actually lying under that orange monster of yours. You can imagine the rest as you wish,” he added after a moment, and the smirk in his voice was obvious even though Tony couldn’t see him.

He bit his tongue not to render their conversation into some sort of a dirty talk and just laughed.

“Admit it, you like it,” he pointed out.

To his surprise, Loki’s voice was just as warm.

“Yes. I… do.”

It was just as warm, as if he was smiling, as if he was –

As if he was talking about something else.

And with that, everything went downhill. Immediately, as if he could sense Tony’s thoughts, Loki tensed – the comfortable silence between them tensed and shuddered, and suddenly they both became really uncomfortable with each other .

“Yeah, well, good to hear, but I should –”

“I think I’d better –”

“Yes,” Tony agreed hurriedly. “Good, ah, night. Day. Whatever.”

“Indeed,” if his voice was anything to go by, Loki was just as desperate to end this conversation as soon as possible; it was hard to tell who hung up first – maybe they did it simultaneously, but anyway, that didn’t matter at the moment.

Tony felt stupid. If he felt like he was getting sleepy before, now he was painfully awake; he was trying to process what was happening – what _had happened just now_ , and if _something_ had happened at all or it was just his imagination; but then again, the silent phone in his hand wasn’t, and Loki was clearly just as stressed out as he was, so _something_ had to happen, whatever it was.

_What_ it was was another question.

He ran his hands through his hair and breathed out slowly; if he was rational about it, nothing criminal has transpired – only presumptions from both sides, nothing else. Still, it was the first time Loki called him just to… talk? And not to ask for help – and it was a novelty itself, it _had_ to mean something –

Or maybe he was just being ridiculous. Maybe it didn’t mean anything – it probably didn’t, and he really, really needed to sleep it over and think about it again in the… okay, it was already morning, in the evening, then.

Right.

Sleep first, thinking second, calling Loki back – optional – third.

Of course, he never got to the third part.

~*~*~

 Somehow Loki was the only one who called, while Tony was the one to just drop by ‘accidentally’ – they haven’t exactly known each other long enough to call it a tradition, but the things worked perfectly fine this way.

That is, until Loki hasn’t called him for a month or so and he was far too preoccupied with his own thoughts on the matter to bother – or rather, risk – visiting him again.

A whole month, though, was a long time even for Tony; not to mean that eventually he’d worked out just what was going on between them and desperately wanted – _needed –_ either a confirmation or a clear refusal to his face.

Because frankly, it took him almost half a year to find an answer to Loki’s question.

_Because I like you_.

Because he did; god knows he did like him – Tony had no idea how or why or when did it start, whether it was the day he saw Loki so  vulnerable and broken on the edge of the roof or the day they watched movie together for the first time or some other  timestamp – he didn’t know and he had much more interesting things to care to think about it.

He liked Loki. His former enemy. His as-of-lately friend. He liked when he called him at the most ridiculous times of the day, he liked it when Loki was seriously interested in something and when he was just pretending to annoy Tony, and he found out that he liked it even more when Loki called him without any reasons whatsoever – just to ask him about his day and so on.

It actually would’ve been… nice.

So after a month or so of complete ignorance from them both, he snapped and went to Loki’s home, determined to know the nature of their… relationship.

Of course, it had to be the time – or the day – Loki was away. Tony considered for a moment that Loki was in, but didn’t want to see him, and brushed it away; as usual, he hadn’t warned him of his visit first, so now it was both to his advantage – less chances to be ignored deliberately – and to his disadvantage: Loki might’ve been away for the whole day, not knowing somebody was waiting for him.

And so Tony waited.

He noticed Loki first – it had been almost an hour since he’d arrived, and he was pacing the street before the tall building when he saw Loki. Obviously, he had been in the supermarket – he had two heavy-looking plastic bags in his hands, looking nothing like former god.

“Hey.”

Loki freezed on the middle step, and his eyes darted to Tony – wary and suspicious, Tony noticed. He smiled warmly and walked over to him, taking one of the bags without promprting.

At first Loki looked like he was going to object, but then clearly decided that he wasn’t going to complain and just huffed.

“Why didn’t you call?” Tony wondered while they were in lift. Loki shrugged:

“What for? Everything’s settled down, I didn’t need your help anymore.”

Ouch.

That hurt.

Tony snorted and sushed him out of the close room and to the door of his flat, giddy with all the plans he had in mind considering Loki, and –

“I hardly think it’s a good idea for you to stay, Stark,” Loki noticed, easily taking the second bag from Tony and trying not to let him enter his home. Tony managed to put his leg between the closing door and the hard wall and pouted.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” he groaned. “Won’t you even talk to me? You know, you could’ve called just to say hi.”

“That’s pathetic,” Loki immediately  spat out, and by the look in his eyes it was clear that he had been thinking about it, too. “I can manage my life as it…”

“I don’t doubt that you can, I only want to…”

_Be a part of it_.

“Talk to you,” Tony finished not as smoothly as he wanted, but it’ll do. Loki eyed him suspiciously.

“Talk, then,” he reluctantly agreed, opening the door a little bit wider. Tony breathed out his relief.

“How about we take it to some other place?” he suggested, looking around himself. Somehow it was different; it had been only a month, and still Loki managed to make this flat look so _different_.

With a striking realization Tony thought that now it was truly Loki’s.

“Do you have anything against my place?” Loki quirked up an eyebrow, and Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes affectionately.

“I’ve been waiting for you for two hours,” the way Loki’s eyes widened slightly in surprise was worth the rounding off his one hour and fifteen minutes. “Can’t you at least join me in the café around the corner?”

Loki considered his offer for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Fine, then. But I have no idea what would you like to…”

“This,” Tony quickly gestured at them, and Loki pursued his lips.

“And what is there to discuss?”

“Are we friends?” Tony  looked into his eyes searchingly, and – _success_. There _was_ a tiniest sliver of _hope;_ he resisted the urge to fistbump. “Or are we something… else?”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked as nonchalantly as he could manage, and Tony shook his head, amused.

“See, there’s a lot to discuss.”

It shouldn’t have been such a pleasant surprise that Loki followed, but it was. They left his flat and his house in agreeable silence, and only when they have been on the street did Loki cockily ask:

“Is it a date, then, mister Stark?”

Tony made a show of frowning and considering a question, which earned him a half-hearted punch in the arm.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “It totally is.”


End file.
